


body electric

by theglitterati



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 04:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20614949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: In a drug bust gone wrong, Connor is attacked and loses a leg. Hank helps him get better.





	body electric

**Author's Note:**

> Hola! This fic features a depiction of the aftermath of a violent attack. If you played the game and had no issue, you'll be fine. if you found the androids-losing-parts-Markus-in-the-junkyard stuff triggering, proceed with caution.
> 
> Title from the Lana Del Ray song.

_ A loud crack, then he hits the floor. Message sent: _ Hank, I need help. _ Voices, arguing. Sirens. A spark in the darkness. Screaming, very close by, nothing, nothing, nothing. More screaming, and then a crash, and the room floods with light. _

*

Hank kicked the door down without bothering to knock, revealing the dark and sleazy motel room. A shape huddled against the wall, a shiny puddle of blood on the ground in front of it. Was it blue, or was that just the light from the patrol cars reflecting?

He flicked the light switch, and uniformed officers swarmed around him to clear the room. Hank froze as the shape came into focus. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

Connor, _ his _ Connor, lay in a heap on the thirium-stained carpet, and… Hank nearly threw up. His right leg, from mid-thigh down, was no longer attached to his body.

“Clear!” someone called from the bathroom. At that signal, the paramedics, one human, one androids, rushed in. The human one grabbed Connor’s discarded leg, took a quick look at it, and then tossed it behind him and started cutting Connor’s clothes off. Connor, awake but unfocused and panicking, screamed at his touch.

Hank realized he hadn’t moved. He ran to Connor, pushing through, yelling “he’s my partner!” at anyone who got in his way, until he sat against the wall with him. Blue blood seeped into his jeans.

“Connor. Connor, look at me. I’m here.”

“Hank?” Connor’s eyes darted around wildly until he found Hank’s face. Hank put a hand on his shoulder; it was almost thrown off by Connor’s shaking.

“I’m here.”

“Hank,” Connor repeated. His voice wobbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell me that that right now. Just stay with me.” Connor shook even more violently than before, and did not answer.

The human paramedic spoke, presumably to Hank. “They ripped the main tube.”

“What?”

“Whoever did this,” he said, slower, gesturing at Connor’s mess of a lower body, “ripped the main thirium tube in his leg. Like an artery in a human.”

“What does that mean?” Hank glanced down at Connor. His eyes were closed.

“We can’t repair it here,” the medic went on. “He’s going to need a replacement. And we gotta remove the rest of this one.”

“NO!” Connor yelled, suddenly alert. He tried to push the paramedics away; even in this state, he was so strong that Hank could barely restrain him. “Hank, please, you can’t let them take my leg, don’t let them take it!” Hank had never seen him like this, so… scared.

“It won’t cause him any pain,” the android paramedic said, or rather yelled, over Connor’s continuing pleas. “He’ll be much more stable after we remove it.”

Hank looked from Connor to the medics. “Is there any other way?”

The human one shook his head. “If we don’t do it soon, he could die.”

“Fuck,” Hank said. “Let’s do it, then.”

“Hank, no,” Connor begged.

“I’m not fucking watching you die!” He held Connor’s shoulders to steady him while the medics worked. Connor, never one to make things easy, tried to fight him off, and would have won easily if the human medic hadn’t jumped in to help. While they held him, the android medic connected to Connor’s remaining thigh, removing the skin there to reveal his white chassis. He slipped a finger into an opening that appeared, and Hank heard the sickening metal-on-metal sound of Connor’s ruined leg detaching from his body. His skin came back down to re-cover his hip, but the joint where his leg connected stayed open.

“He’s stabilizing,” the android said. “His regulator won’t need to work so hard now that he’s not losing thirium.”

Connor’s thrashing slowed. When he stilled, he looked up at Hank, and immediately started to cry.

“Hank, I—”

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Connor’s eyes slipped closed.

“Connor. Connor!”

“I’ve put him in forced sleep mode,” the android medic said. “It’s like being anesthetized. He’s going to be okay now.” He had an eerily calm manner about him; he must have been designed that way on purpose, Hank decided. The human medic began checking Connor over for other injuries.

“Do you know what happened here?”

Hank sighed. “We got this address from an informant. Red ice; there was supposed to be two guys dealing out of here. We were gonna come by tomorrow and check it out. I’m guessing he decided to be a hero after I went home today. All I got was a message saying ‘I need help.’’’

“Your dealers are androids,” the android medic said. “No human could have taken his leg off like that.”

Hank shook his head. This wasn’t the first time Connor, trying to be useful, had gone to investigate something without backup. It sure was going to be the fucking last, though. Connor would be lucky if Hank didn’t put in a formal complaint against him for making him worry like this.

“He’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yes,” the human medic said. “But we’re going to have to remove this hand, too. It’s beyond repair.” He held Connor’s right arm up by the wrist. His hand — soft, lovely skin that Hank had felt against his own too few times for this to be happening — dangled in the air, his middle three fingers ripped to shreds.

“How long will he have to be without it and his leg?”

The android medic tapped his LED. “I’m putting in the order now. His new parts should be ready first thing in the morning.”

“Where?”

“Most androids go to the hospital or to Cyberlife stores for repairs. But… where does he live?”

“He lives with me,” Hank said.

“Then if you’d prefer, and if he’s stable enough, we can release him into your care. Cyberlife can deliver the replacements to your address, and he’ll be able to install them himself without difficulty.”

The human medic piped up. “He’s stable enough. He’s just got some scrapes other than the leg and the hand. They’ll heal themselves over the next day or two.”

“Is he comfortable in the home environment?” the android asked.

Hank thought of movies watched under blankets, dinners cooked by Connor to try to impress him. Walks with Sumo and games of chess. A kiss, a few days prior, that neither of them had mentioned since.

“Yeah, he is.”

The medic nodded. “Good. We’ll put him in the bus and follow you home.”

“Chris!” Hank called out. He hadn’t actually bothered to check which officers were on duty when he came in, but sure enough, Chris came walking out of the bathroom, always there when you needed him. “Call Reed and tell him this is his problem now. I’m taking Connor home.”

“Got it. He okay?”

Hank grimaced. “He will be.”

He watched the medics bring in the stretcher and lift Connor’s lifeless form onto it, thinking that he hadn’t felt this heartbroken in three years.

*

The drive home was a blur of flashing lights. Hank probably shouldn’t have been driving, but he got there in one piece. The medics carried Connor into the bedroom; Hank held Sumo at bay until they could get the door shut. He joined them as they laid Connor on the bed. They’d cut everything but his underwear off, so Hank covered him with a blanket.

The human medic nodded to Hank and left the room, his radio crackling. “When will he wake up?” Hank asked the android.

“In about an hour. The way he panicked earlier — have you ever seen him act like that before?”

Hank shook his head. “Never. He gets nervous, sometimes, but… not like that.”

The android gave him a reassuring smile. “It was probably a result of low thirium levels, then. When we lose enough blood, we see error messages, warnings, enough to fill up our entire field of vision.” That explained why Connor couldn’t see Hank when he got there. “It’s frightening. But he shouldn’t experience that again tonight, now that we’ve removed his leg. The psychological effects could still be challenging, however.”

“Just ‘cause it’s replaceable don’t mean you don’t miss it,” Hank said.

“Exactly,” the medic confirmed. “We should go now. It looks like he’s in good hands.”

“Thanks. Hey, I didn’t get your name?”

The android smiled. “It’s Jonathon. My partner’s name is Mike.”

“Thanks a lot, both of you,” Hank said. “I mean, seriously… thank you.”

Jonathon just nodded. Hank showed him out, thanking him again awkwardly. Then he grabbed a chair from the kitchen and returned to the bedroom to be with Connor. Fifty-eight minutes until he woke up, and Hank wouldn’t leave him for a single one.

He didn’t get to see Connor sleep, or anything like it, very much. He looked younger like this. He would look peaceful if not for the scratch across his cheek that revealed grey and white metal underneath, or the disconcerting lack of bump under the blanket where he leg should have been. Hank couldn’t help but note that this was the first time Connor had been in his bed. 

When the hour was up, Hank reached out to touch Connor’s non-injured cheek, hoping to wake him up gently. He had just grazed it when Connor’s eyes flew open.

He went completely rigid, and for a second, Hank thought he was going to scream. Then his body relaxed, and he sank down into the bed.

“My hand, too?’ Connor asked. Hank expected his voice to be scratchy, but he sounded totally normal.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hank said. “Your new parts will be here in the morning.”

Connor nodded. “Any other damage?”

“Nothing serious. Scratches, here” — Hank pointed at the one on his cheek, careful not to touch — “and a few other places.”

“The dealers?”

“Long gone by the time we got there.”

Connor didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Hank said. “You okay?”

In response, Connor started to sob, full, thick gasps, nothing like the gentle stream of tears he’d shed at the scene.

“I didn’t think it would be risky to just check the place out,” he mumbled through the tears. “The informant said the dealers were human. But I knew something was wrong as soon as I got there. They’re androids, not humans, and they made me for a cop, and—” He tried to gesture with his right hand, but it wasn’t there, and that just made him cry harder.

Hank stood up from the chair and sat on the bed beside Connor, pulling him up gently to wrap his arms around him. “It’s okay,” Hank said, rubbing his back. “It’s not your fault, what happened to you.”

Connor choked back a sob. “Are you angry at me?”

“You know I’m not. I’m just glad you’re okay. But just because I’m not mad doesn’t mean you can ever, ever do that to me again.”

Connor nodded vigorously. “I know. I promise I won’t.”

“Because seeing you like that, screaming, and shaking — do you remember it?”

“Yes,” Connor said quietly.

“That was fucking terrifying, Connor,” Hank said. His voice was raw in the darkness, and he felt tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I don’t ever wanna see you like that again.”

“You won’t,” Connor said. “I’m so sorry, Hank.” He turned and buried his face in Hank’s shirt, crying harder.

“It’s okay. We’re here now,” Hank said. He held Connor close until he felt him relax beneath him.

Connor looked up at him. “Do you think you could help me put some clothes on?”

“‘Course,” Hank said. He slipped an arm under Connor’s shoulders to lift him into a sitting position — it was too damn easy, he was too light without his leg — and settled him against the headboard. He decided that a bathrobe would be easiest for Connor, and would avoid the question of what to do with his right side. He grabbed a ratty old plaid one of his own from the bathroom and helped Connor into it. Its right sleeve hung aimlessly over Connor's missing hand.

“Do you want anything?” Hank asked him. “I feel like I should offer you soup or something.”

“I’m alright,” Connor said. “Will you stay here with me?”

“If you think I’m goin’ anywhere, you’re nuts. Although, there is someone else who wants to see you.” Hank went to open the door. “Be calm, boy.”

Sumo listened for once and padded in slowly, going to Connor’s side of the bed and resting his head on the mattress. Connor reached his left hand across to pet him. “Hey, buddy.”

The three of them spent the night in bed, watching dumb old shows from Hank’s childhood on his tablet. They were halfway through an episode of _ The Office _ when Hank noticed that Connor wasn’t paying attention.

“What’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

“No. I was just thinking about earlier. Hank, you told me before that you were afraid to die. Was that true?”

Hank needed to pause the show; he couldn’t have this conversation and listen to Michael Scott blabber at the same time. “Yeah. Everyone’s scared to die. Why are you asking this?”

“Tonight, I felt like I might die, and I was very afraid. For normal reasons, like fear of the unknown. But also…” Connor looked up at Hank. “But also because it would mean being separated from you.”

With this lovely, broken creature saying possibly the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, Hank thought _ he _might die. “You’re not going anywhere I can’t go,” he said. “I’m never going to let that happen.”

“I don’t want to be— I—”

Unable to form a sentence, Connor gave up on talking and just leaned in and kissed Hank instead. It was quick, a soft brush against Hank’s lips and then an absence that ached.

“Was that okay?” Connor asked, looking up at Hank through long, dark lashes.

“It was a hell of a lot better than okay.”

Connor bit his lip. “I wasn’t sure. The other night... I didn’t know if you considered it a mistake—”

Hank pressed a finger to Connor’s lips to shut him up. “Come here.” He pulled Connor in for another kiss, this one still soft but deeper, gentle but coloured with need.

Connor tried to put his arms around Hank, his empty wrist joint brushing against Hank’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He moved back, quickly. “That was probably quite unappealing.”

“Nothing about you is unappealing to me, kid,” Hank said. He couldn’t stand the idea that, in addition to all the pain Connor had experienced that night, he felt guilty about it, too. Hank grabbed his right arm and pulled back the sleeve of the bathrobe, revealing Connor’s mangled wrist. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to it, on the last bit of skin beside the joint. 

“I don’t care how many parts you lose,” Hank said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Connor managed a smile. “Same to you.”

They went on kissing, touching, grinning shyly at each other in the dark, until Hank was almost asleep.

“I’m gonna pass out. Go into rest mode with me.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Hank,” Connor said. Hank’s eyes fell closed.

*

They were woken up by the doorbell. Sumo beat Hank to the living room, barking loud enough to wake the neighbourhood. Hank grabbed the boxes from the delivery guy, then tipped him twenty bucks and slammed the door in his confused face.

“They’re here,” he announced, re-entering the bedroom.

“Will you help me?”

Hank nodded, and then helped Connor put himself back together again. The parts were strangely artificial-looking when not attached to a body, but once they got the new hand in place, Connor’s skin slid right down to cover it, looking as perfect and delicate as ever. His new leg took more work to get on, but with a loud click, it snapped into place, and soon it too was covered in pale skin and Connor was wiggling his new toes. His freckles, thankfully, had survived the incident; Hank just happened to know that they were all back in the same place.

He helped Connor stand up and take a walk around the room. ‘Well?”

“I’m okay,” Connor said, relief clearly written across his face. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” Hank said. “Now we can do this properly.” He took Connor’s face in both hands, kissed him greedily, and pulled him back down to the bed to test-drive his new parts.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at kyrstin.tumblr.com. Also, while I've written lots of H/C before, this is my first time trying to write whump specifically. Let me know how I did!


End file.
